


A Gleam of Silver

by sailingtovalinor



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Character Death, Civil War (Marvel), M/M, Not A Fix-It, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 09:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6901039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailingtovalinor/pseuds/sailingtovalinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if there's a world where Steve Rogers finally, finally signs the Accords - but only when it's too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gleam of Silver

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Captain America Signs the Registration Act](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6747466) by [Mushroom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mushroom/pseuds/Mushroom). 



It's five days after they've signed the Accords that the remaining Avengers return to the Headquarters.

They’re not allowed in, but they’re not surprised. They don’t exactly expect to ever be able to set foot into the building (their new home, except it’s not that, not any more) ever again.

Pepper and Rhodey meet them just outside the entrance. Vision is there, too, standing to the side; but he’s as impassive as always, and it’s difficult to focus on anything, on anyone other than Pepper and Rhodey. There’s silence as Steve’s group walks up to them; silence still when they finally stop a few metres away.

Steve’s never found it so fucking difficult to meet anyone’s eyes until that moment.

Steve opens his mouth, to say— What, he doesn’t know, he just needs to break the oppressive stillness, but it’s Pepper’s voice that cuts through the space between them.

“You’re not allowed in,” she says, voice calm, but Steve can see the fury and grief banked in her eyes, can see how she has her hands clenched by her side, can see the way she’s trembling from the effort, fine tremors that she has no hope to hide. Steve knows that while she may sound calm, she’s anything but.

“Vision’s cleared out your rooms,” Pepper continues, “all your belongings are there.” She gestures to the space next to Vision, where boxes are stacked.

“We know you’ve signed—” her voice breaks off, and Steve swallows, sees Rhodey taking one of her hands, “—signed the Accords, but you’re not living here. Not any more.”

“I—” Steve begins, but he’s cut off by Rhodey.

“Don’t. Say. A fucking word,” he seethes, eyes blazing. “I don’t want to hear your fucking _voice_.

"And don’t worry, _Captain_ ,” Rhodey bites out the last, “anything of yours that you’ve kept in Tony’s room— Vision’s taken all of them out, too. No trace of you left in this place,” he laughs, a harsh, grating sound, “just like there’s nothing left of him for us to _bury_.”

Pepper lets out a sob at that, and her hand tightens around Rhodey’s; she’s tugging at him, turning her body away from Steve, making to move into the building.

It’s Rhodey’s last words that finally make Steve look down and away, and he feels like it’s happening all over again, like he’s standing with a tiny piece of armor—all that’s left of Tony—crumbling to dust in his own hand.

“Wait,” Rhodey says, and Steve raises his head. All he can see is Rhodey’s back ( _not his face, thank god_ , and Steve hates the sheer relief that washes over him, hates that he’s grateful to be spared the discomfort of having to see the play of emotions on Rhodey’s face) but then Steve notices Rhodey’s digging a hand into his pocket, before he turns around again to face them, leaning heavily against Pepper for a brief instant.

He’s standing tall when he meets Steve’s eyes once more, and Steve wants to look away, guilt and sorrow constricting his throat, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t allow himself that act of cowardice, looks right back at Rhodey.

“There’s one thing—” Rhodey continues, then looks down at the thing clutched in his hand, “—not yours, but that’s only because To— because he never gave it to you.” A twitch to the corner of his mouth, too fleeting for Steve to read, before Rhodey’s sneering at Steve.

The expression doesn’t sit right on his features; there’s not nearly enough contempt and too much of everything else; a multitude of emotions warring to be reflected on a face that’s only ever shown kindness and respect to Steve.

“I’ll let you have this.”

Steve’s raising his hand reflexively, snagging the object from the air before he even realises that Rhodey’s thrown it over to him. 

Steve’s fingers uncurl from around the object, but he’s still staring at the doorway where the three of his friends— _except no, they’re not his friends, he no longer has the right to call them that_ —have just passed through, when he hears a sharp intake of breath.

He turns to Natasha, immediately worried, but she’s staring at the object resting on his palm, jaw clenched so tightly (so tightly, just like Pepper’s), it must hurt.

It’s a while before Steve redirects his gaze away from Natasha’s face, and even longer before he realises what he’s holding, what Rhodey’s thrown to him.

It’s a small box, a perfect square.

It would be nondescript if not for the fact that it’s a box wrapped in velvet, a beautiful blue so similar to that of Steve’s uniform.

He feels Natasha’s fingers close around his arm with a sort of detachment, and her voice is unsteady when she says his name, but she says nothing else.

Steve’s not sure if there’s anything to be said, and he’s unsure of what to do; but his trembling fingers are opening the box, almost of their own accord, and—

A gleam of bright, bright silver. 

Another gasp, a whispered _Fuck_ , and Natasha’s nails are digging into him, too close to the wrist, but Steve can’t place the voice and he can’t care about Natasha or the fact that he’s now bleeding; doesn’t have it in him to care about anything other than what he’s holding in his hands—

His eyes are blurry with tears, and he’s shaking so badly the box is falling from his grip—

And suddenly Sam’s right there, one hand gripping Steve’s shoulder, the other curling around Steve’s fingers, gently closing the box—

But Steve’s already seen what’s inside the box, recognises it for what it is; that silver band inlaid with five tiny gems—a ruby, a yellow diamond, a white diamond in the exact centre of the band, and a sapphire and another ruby to the right of it—

Steve falls to his knees, and he wants to scream; can’t think or feel anything beyond the overwhelming grief ripping through him, leaving him breathless and gasping and so fucking empty, and he’s clawing desperately at his chest because he’s never felt such agonising _pain_ —

_“I would say you’re the only thing that’s right in my life,” Tony begins, finger drawing lazy patterns on Steve’s chest. Steve smiles, hiding it in Tony’s hair, even as Steve begins to shake his head._

_“No, listen, I’m serious,” Tony says, insistent and earnest, but he negates the effect by laughing. “My life is— it’s good, okay, it’s more than I could ask for—” Tony breaks off, raising his head from where he’s tucked it against Steve’s neck to plant a quick kiss on Steve’s chin, “—especially with the Avengers, and I’ve got Rhodey and Pep, so I can’t say you’re the_ only _thing that’s right, because I don’t actually have a death wish—” and now it’s Steve who can’t help himself; he laughs, laughs as he slides his hand into Tony’s hair, tangling his fingers through the strands before he leans up, pressing his lips against Tony’s smiling mouth._

_It’s a long while before they break away from each other. Steve’s looking at Tony, who’s a warm, comforting weight on top of him, hair a complete mess, eyes bright._

_Steve knows Tony thinks he’s the lucky one because he has Steve, but Steve knows that_ he’s _the lucky one, because he’s lost everything, once, but now— Now, 74 years since his fall, he’s gained everything he could ever wish for._

_He’s never given much thought to the idea of soulmates, but he’s beginning to see why it’s something that people believe in._

_Steve brushes a lock of hair back from where it’s fallen across Tony’s forehead, fingers lingering on Tony’s face._

_“Steve,” Tony starts again, voice soft, “you may not be the only thing that’s right in my life, but you— You’re the right_ est _.”_

—and he breaks, he screams; screams until his throat feels raw, and Natasha and Sam’s arms are tight around him and he can feel someone’s tears against his temple; they’re holding him but he’s breaking into pieces and he did this, he knows, he finally has— he _had_ , had the one thing that made his life worth living but now it’s gone; and they’re holding him, but Steve’s falling, falling, he’s falling and he knows that this time, he’s not going to be able to get back up again.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is also posted on my [Tumblr](http://mazikeen.tumblr.com/post/144590958763/okay-so-ive-read-the-fics-where-tony-sells-his). Come say hi!


End file.
